Chapter 114: The third shadow
I did not know how long I'd been holding it in until I said the words out loud.
We were on the back patio of Evelyn's townhouse, wrapped in blankets, wine glasses forgotten on the table between us. Evelyn had been my friend from simpler times and it felt nice to see her at this trying moment. The coolness of early spring still lingered in the air, but it was nothing compared to the cold that still lingered inside me.
I said to myself I was being melodramatic," I breathed. "That I was over-exaggerating. That perhaps what Nathaniel had told me was not bad enough to leave."
Evelyn didn't blink, didn't interrupt as I poured out my heart to her. She simply listened—as she always had, as she always would.
The way true friends do. This was something that I missed as I hadn’t done it in a long time:
"But he was in charge of me," I continued. "Not hurtful, but hurtful nonetheless. He always knew where I was. Who I was with. Every time I tried to leave him, he'd get in my head that I was destroying something that could not be fixed. He tried to control everything I did and it got to a point that it was all and truly frustrating for me to endure. That he deserved it from me." Evelyn's face warped into a snarling line. "You owe him jack squat, Lil. Don’t ever forget that again. Ever."
I turned away, my eyes stinging. "I know that now. But sometimes there are nights when I still hear his voice. Still feel like I'm still there. Like I'm trapped all over again."
She took my hand and squeezed it harder. "You're not trapped. You can live your new life, you have a man who truly loves you. Do not take that for granted."
There was a silence between us like a thick fog that usually enveloped early mornings.
Then she said. "I didn't want to tell you this unless I was sure, but. I think someone is following you."
My stomach twisted. "What, are you sure about this?"
"I've seen a man. Always wearing a mask. Not full face—only half way up. Already twice, in front of that tiny café you like on Crown Street. Same each morning. Doesn't buy anything. Doesn't go in. Just. stands. Spying."
Chill ran down my spine. "Why didn't you say anything about this before?"
"Because I thought I was being paranoid," she admitted. "But now? With everything that's happening. it's not an accident. With everything that you have told me, it has to be real."
I nodded, my mouth was really dry and I was losing my sanity at the same time.
I told her bye and left for home.
When I got home, I discovered Caspian in the study, phone against his ear. He looked up the minute I entered, brow furrowed into that exquisite mix of worry and concentration he wore too often these days.
He hung up the phone, set the telephone down, and kept moving to the other side of the room. "You're white. What's wrong?"
I told him about Evelyn. About the man outside the café. His jaw tightening with each passing word.
"I've already put someone on the job," he said at last. "A private investigator."
I opened my eyes in shock. "You have?"
"Yes," he replied. "I wanted some answers. We both did." He paused. "There is a problem, though."
"What kind of problem?"
"No trace of Nathaniel. No charge on his credit card. No reservation in his name. No use of the internet. He just vanished." Caspian's gaze latched onto mine, dark and unreadable. "Or like he doesn't exist."
I chilled. "You think he's here."
"I think he never left the house to begin with."
I slept not that night.
I tossed in the sheets, staring at the ceiling, hearing the soft sound of Caspian's breathing beside me. Safe. Solid. But even that safety was frayed.
When I finally did sleep, the nightmare struck fast and hard.
I was in my own bedroom, but the walls were darker, alien. Shadows clung like spiders. And then I saw him—Nathaniel—standing at the foot of the bed.
He said nothing.
He just glared.
His eyes were vacant. Vacant of everything human.
And then he smiled.
I was sitting straight with a gasp, heart thudding against my ribcage. The room was quiet, filled with silver moonlight.
Caspian moved. "Lily?"
But I wasn't looking at him.
I was looking at the window.
It was open, just an inch.
And on the glass—
A handprint.
Smudged and unmistakable. Big. Male.
I sprang out of bed, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Caspian was already on his feet, grabbing his phone, his eyes scanning the room.
"No alarm," he said again. "No motion detection."
I fingered the smudge on the wall. It was still warm to the touch.
He had been there.
Watching us sleep.
Watching us.
Caspian came running up to me, his hand on my shoulder. "We'll get him back," he breathed, his eyes low and full of promise. "I swear to it."
I turned to him, and for a moment did nothing. I just looked at him—saw him really. His hair, rumpled from bed, his worried face, something behind: fear he was trying to conceal.
"I don't want this to be between us," I whispered. "I don't want him to win."
"He won't," Caspian said. And then he leaned forward, forehead against mine.
"But you have to let me protect you."
"I'm trying," I breathed. "But I need to be strong for myself too."
"You are strong. But strength doesn't mean doing it alone."
Our lips touched—gentle this time. Slow. A breath in the middle of a storm.
And in that instant, I knew: this was war. And I wasn't going to let the past get its way.
Even if it already had, in the house, lurking behind the shadows and watching our every move.